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Post by johndawlish on Jun 8, 2012 5:32:42 GMT
  UNDER SOME DIRTY WORDS
ON A DIRTY WALL
John awoke to a sharp pain in his wrist, his mind and body jolting awake to find the source of the pain. His vision blurred, and his mind in a haze, he stared out at the blank room around him, only to conclude that it was empty.
The gash that led from his wrist to his elbow was from no accident. A junior Death Eater had been allowed to try their own techniques on extracting information, and the wound was the result of their experiment. He clenched his jaw tightly and shut his eyes, resting his unwashed head on the stack of hay he'd been sleeping on previously.
Time had become meaningless. He no longer knew if it was day, or night, or how long he had been imprisoned for. His best guess was a few months, but there was nothing more he could add.
As he let out a loud sigh, unknowing that he had been holding his breath the whole time, he tried to picture the one thing that had kept him sane during the whole time: Katherine. But even then, his memories were fuzzy. He struggled to remember the colour of her eyes, or even how they had met.
Dehydration. That was what John had put it all down to. He wasn't sleeping or eating right and had been subjected to the kinds of things Aurors like him only talked about.
Just as his eyes wandered down to the large gash, the wall opened and in walked John's attacker: a tall, gauntly man by the name of Dimmare. At least, that was all John had managed to find out about him through the thick walls that surrounded him.
He pressed himself back up against the wall and put both his hands up, showing that he was not armed. He didn't want another bout of that again...
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Post by willdavies on Jun 8, 2012 5:49:32 GMT
Albert gave a cold smile as the door opened before him and he walked into Dawlish’ cell. All the signs seemed to indicate that the current regimen of interrogation was proving exceedingly effective, and soon they would have stripped the Auror’s mind of the few valuable secrets he had left. And then? They could simply chose to kill him, but with the Dark Lord’s approval Albert had something far more practical in mind.
Looking at the blood and filth-stained floor with distaste, Albert charmed his shoes to repel the filth and conjured a light as the door closed behind him. Now properly illuminated, Dawlish was a sorry sight; dark circles under his eyes testifying to countless sleepless nights – the nightmare loops he’d embedded with Legilmency were proving effective, Albert noted – and the clear play of bones under wasted skin showing the effect that deprivation of food and water as well.
Albert smiled as Dawlish backed himself into the corner and held his hands up in fear of his life. Even since living through the false memories of his Muggleborn lover’s death that the Auror had been allowed to stew in for a few hours after the first attempt he’d made to escape, Dawlish had been properly wary of Albert – and that was as it should be.
"My dear John," Albert smiled and Conjured a chair for the Auror to sit on. "Do take a seat, my boy. You look as weak as a kitten. And what’s this?" As he healed the cut Albert was biting back a snarl behind his perfectly dissembling mask. Clearly the dullards and dolts he’d been burdened with needed to learn what ‘heal all wounds and leave him untouched meant’. "I must apologize for my subordinates. They are so crude and vulgar that they have yet to master more civilized graces."
Albert Conjured a cup of tea and Levitated it across the room. "Now, I have some news for you. Would you care to hear it now or wait until after we finish our little talk?"
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Post by johndawlish on Jun 10, 2012 9:17:24 GMT
UNDER SOME DIRTY WORDS
ON A DIRTY WALL
Beneath the gaunt, translucent skin that clung to John's cheekbones, the corner of his mouth twitched as Dawlish spoke. The man had conjured a chair and it was up to John whether he would take it or not. Hesitant, his eyes flicking over to the chair, he cautiously took a step forward and seated himself. The luxury of comfort - something John had become used to living without.
He raised his wand to heal the cut, John flinched away. He stared down at his arm, bewildered that his flesh was now a pale-pink, rather than the dark red he'd been used to. He touched it with his opposite thumb, almost as if he was afraid it was just an illusion..
It was hard to know what was real and what was not. Katherine was dead; real. Hogwarts had fallen; not real? The line that had been once distinctive, had been blurred by memories that John wasn't sure were his.
John nodded, unsure of his own voice. A cup of tea was produced in front of him and John's eyes nearly popped out of his head. Tea. Sugar. He was careful to sniff the tea before taking a long drink - but, either way, he almost didn't care if it was poisoned or not. "Now, I suppose," John said quietly, bringing the drink to his parched, cracked lips.
What on Earth did Dimmare mean about having a little talk?
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Post by willdavies on Jun 12, 2012 10:14:41 GMT
"Well, I don't know how well you remember the last letter you wrote to your dear Katherine." Albert gave a cold and lifeless smile. "Given the pain it seemed you were in, I would understand if you didn't. Suffice it to say that the letter involved a detailed and graphic blow-by-blow description of the persuasion you were recieving."
Conjuring a cup of tea of his own and sipping at it, Albert sought to meet John's eyes, holding the Auror's gaze constantly as he ever so gently probed for a moment of weakness to let him slip in. "I know you must have been dreadfully worried over whether she'd received your message, so I thought I'd let you know that she did."
Albert's lips quirked and widened into a death's-head grin. "I delivered it myself, as a courtesy to you - I wanted to be sure you'd receive a reply. She cried, of course - it was a very touching letter. She didn't cry for long, however - though not out of any lack of affection for you." The gaunt man shrugged languidly. "At first it was because she was screaming so loudly it was hard to cry. Later on she wasn't in much of a state to make much sound at all."
Taking another sip of his tea, Albert gave a pleasant smile. "Now that we've got your news out of the way, can we discuss business?" It was all a facade really - the tale of Katherine's death and the question alike; carefully calculated to cause maximum distress and open up the Auror's mind so wide that Albert could pick through his brains without having to peel his mind open first.
After all, such unnecessary waste was a terribly messy business, and so unproductive.
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Post by johndawlish on Jun 12, 2012 12:33:20 GMT
UNDER SOME DIRTY WORDS
ON A DIRTY WALL
John's ears twitched as Albert mentioned his last letter. He'd been writing letters? John's mind started ticking like clockwork, trying to remember. Oh, yes. He closed his eyes, remembering back to his last message. He'd written about the conditions he was in, but he'd wanted Katherine not to worry. He was going to see her again.
Not that she particularly wanted him to. It had turned out that she had wished she and him could just be friends. No matter. John brought the cup to his lips and drank deeply, listening to Albert's twisted tale of how he brought the letter to Katherine and then...
The delicate piece of china fell out of John's hands before he could react. He had killed Katherine. John slumped back in his chair, burying his forehead in his hands. No. No. Why had he done this?! There was no sense in killing Katherine!
His mind too weak to care - or barely even notice as Albert probed around inside, changing the memories that John had recently become so dependant on. No, this couldn't be true. He waved his hand dismissively, gesturing for Albert to continue with whatever it was that he was saying. It didn't matter to John any more.
They could kill him now and he wouldn't even feel it.
John didn't care if they saw him cry. Hell, he barely cared about anything - except for Katheirne. John slumped forward, his head hitting the side of the table. Oh, what did it matter any more. They'd killed John in every way but one.
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Post by willdavies on Jun 12, 2012 13:04:58 GMT
As Dawlish's proverbial ears pricked up at the mention of Katherine, Albert hid a satisfied smile. The Auror had taken the bait - now to reel him in and then catch him on the hook. As the Auror went limp with shock and dropped the teacup Albert pounced, the razor-edge of his Legilimency slicing through the limp and feeble defences that were all John had left in an instant.
Some distant part of Albert noted that the Auror had slumped into the table with his head in his hands, but too late. Eye contact had been made, and now Dawlish's mind belonged, lock and key, to the Death Eater. Riffling through for the last things he needed to know - Auror safehouses and the like - Albert made tiny alterations and activated previously implanted trains of thought as he passed, restoring all visible evidence of what he'd done to Dawlish's memories and mind.
Satisfied after one last prudent check that his work was flawless, Albert disentangled his thoughts from Dawlish and cut the Legilimantic link. Now all they had to do was return the fool to Hogwarts and they would have a mole in the ranks of both Aurors and Order alike.
Drawing a bead with his wand on John's forehead, Albert gave a cold smile as despair and hopelessness filled the Auror's eyes and the man began vainly attempting to push his chair backwards and gain some distance.
"Stupefy."
Albert murmured the spell and saw Dawlish's eyes go wide with surprise before the Auror lost consciousness and slumped against the table. Pulling a specially made Portkey out of his belt, Albert wrapped the other man's hands around the key before tapping it sharply with his wand, sending the other man on a one-way trip to the middle of Hogsmeade village where he would be found come morning.
Vanishing every trace of the man's presence left in the cell, Albert turned on his heel and left, full of the satisfaction of a job well done as the door closed to leave the cell hidden once more behind him.
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